


Kasnia

by BuckinghamAlice, lightsparkwatchboom



Series: The Dark'n'Bossy/BigBlueSky Role-Play Archive [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Comics, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, No Shirt; No Shoes; No Plot; No Problem, RP Blog Archive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsparkwatchboom/pseuds/lightsparkwatchboom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of all the gin joints in Kasnia, how did you and I happen to be sent to cover this party?"</p><p>Clark Kent is on the trail of Bruno Mannheim, and it has taken him to Kasnia, the nation that just recently got its embargo lifted. Bruce Wayne is tracking down some high-tech weapons that have been turning up in Gotham. They meet at the gala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is Part 1 of an archive of the Dark'n'Bossy/BigBlueSky role-play, which is being done by the lovely Miss Alice and myself. I'm Batman, she's Superman. You can find us posting to the 'dab bbs rp' tag pretty regularly, as in, yeah we probably go through 2-3k words a night some times.
> 
> And let us apologize in advance. Neither of us are good at role-playing, which is really different from writing a regular story, we're learning.

"Of all the gin joints in Kasnia, how did you and I happen to be sent to cover this party?" Lois Lane grumbled into her glass of wine.  Clark Kent smiled to himself as he surveyed the room.  The lifting of the longstanding barricade in Kasnia was a big deal for the whole country, but this party, full of some of the wealthiest and most prominent individuals far and wide only reflected the fact that the upper crust liked to celebrate.

"You know, I suppose Perry sent us here to get the skinny on this society set," Clark began, then, lowering his voice, he added, "But I’ll admit… I couldn’t get a better chance to keep my eye on Bruno Manheim."

Lois sighed.  ”That is a point… but don’t you think we could get a better story out on the streets?  Seeing how the common people are reacting to this?”

Clark sighed in response and shook his head.  He knew what she meant, but this party was convenient for him.  He’d been watching Manheim anyways… and while there was no reason for Superman to be here, Clark had caught a break… even if it meant mingling with people who’d just as soon give him their drink orders as look down their nose at him.

Watching Manheim and his goons stick to the sidelines, Clark raised his eyebrow at Lois.  ”C’mon… let’s get back into the fray.”  He offered her his hand, and she accepted it with a sigh.  They twirled out onto the dance floor, both of them more interested in the activity whirling around them than they had let on.

===

She latched onto him almost the moment he picked up his first wine flute.

“And  _then_  Mrs. Havisham had to come up with a replacement, so she took the curtains…”

Bruce really couldn’t care less.

But Brucie was all ears. Brucie was listening to her riveting tale of debauchery and shenanigans with a smile plastered on his face that even managed to put wrinkles around his eyes. That had taken a little bit of finesse to learn, he remembered. Not that it was hard to do, but putting it into his reflexes as his default smile again, took finesse.

Bruce wondered if she was done yet.

“…but then the monkey, of all things—”

_Not even close_ , he thought. At least she was one of the more talkative types. He only had to nod, chuckle, and offer encouraging sounds every now and again to keep the conversation coming out of her mouth. Bruce wasn’t a fan of talking if he could get away with it.

Maybe he could get her to—

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Bruce said to her, placating her with a touch on the arm. “I just realized – Vilkmans? Vilkmans, is that you?”

A plump man — the kind of plump that had less of a waist line and more of an equator — turned towards him. “Brucie! Brucie, my boy!” He threw his arms out on either side of him.

Bruce half-hugged him. “Vilkmans, what a pleasure seeing you here.” Vilkmans owned three separate dog fighting rings. “I didn’t know you had an interest here, in Kasnia.” They used Kasnian wolves when the fights were getting dull.

Bruce’s mind quickly skimmed through all the evidence he had available to convict Vilkmans, and it came up short.

“Oh, I’m a man of many interests, my dear boy. And who is this lovely star you’ve found, hmm?”

“Sensa McCain,” Bruce said. Vilkmans kissed the back of her hand. “And don’t believe her for one second, she’s as rowdy as a cowboy.”

“Dohoho!” Vilkmans bounced when he laughed. “I’ll be the judge of that! Let’s hear it, Miss McCain.”

_Better_ , Bruce thought. Now he didn’t even have to grunt approvingly.

He cast his eyes around the room over the rim of the wine flute. There were all kinds of industrialists and fat cats lounging, talking, dancing. Working, if you paid attention to the conversation close enough. Kasnia’s chief ambassador was making his rounds, too.

Bruce recalled the WayneTech project that had brought him here. WayneTech was the one division Bruce kept daily tabs on. So when WayneTech’s joint project with Kasnian tech firm MasoGiant turns out to have the same tech as highly advanced, almost science fiction-level weapons that were turning up on Gotham’s streets, well, of course Brucie would love to attend the party. He couldn’t think of a better time.

He would have winced as he lowered his arm, if he wasn’t so used to hiding it. That, like his smile, had taken some finesse. But he wouldn’t be Batman if he didn’t have a little bit of finesse.

===

Clark was focusing hard on catching every word that passed between Manheim and anyone who came near him that he had almost tuned Lois out completely.  

"Are we even in the same room, Smallville?" Lois asked, nose wrinkled and brow arched.  

Clark smiled softly at her clearly feigned annoyance.  ”I’m sorry… what were you saying?”

"I was pointing out the third most eligible bachelor alive, and the most eligible in this room," Lois said playfully.  She tilted her head in the direction of Gotham’s billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne.  "Do you suppose he’s here on business or pleasure?"

Clark snorted a laugh.  ”From what I hear, pleasure  _is_  his business.”

Lois grinned.  ”Snarky.”  Then, lowering her voice just a tad, she asked, “Do you think he’s good looking?”

"Sure," Clark said, shrugging.  "If you go in for that tall, dark, and traditionally handsome type."

"Not that either of us do," Lois said with a smirk.

Clark nodded.  ”Right.  Neither of us…”

"We should go interview him," Lois said suddenly.  "Try to grab a sound byte or two."

Clark glanced over to the man in question and furrowed a brow.  He looked about as interesting as a brick wall, handsome or not.  He shook his head and started to protest, but Lois silenced him with one of those looks she often gave him.

"Well, the bar is that way," Lois said.  "We can at least go freshen our drinks."  Lois hooked her arm through Clark’s and they walked over to the bar and got two more glasses of wine.  They were now several feet away from Bruce Wayne, and Clark shouldn’t have been surprised when Lois said, "Oh, Mr. Wayne!  Hi!  Lois Lane, Daily Planet."

She yanked Clark closer and added, “This is Clark Kent.”

Clark glanced up and grinned sheepishly.  Looking Bruce Wayne in the eye, he managed, “Um, hello…”

===

"Lane?" Sensa’s eyebrows went straight up. "The Lois Lane? Like, the girl who dates Superman?"

Bruce put on a cursory smile. Something curled in the pit of his stomach. He ignored it. “It would appear so. And — I’m sorry, Kent, was it? Must be—”  _exhausting, frustrating, boring_  “—interesting to work with her.”

===

"Yes, always interesting, to say the least," Clark said with a smile.  He tried to ignore the condescending edge to his voice.  "I’ve, uh, learned a lot from her since we’ve been partners."

Lois grinned.  ”That’s why they made you my partner, Smallville.”

"So, Mr. Wayne, I didn’t realize you had an interest here in Kasnia," Clark said.

===

Vilkmans cleared his throat and passed a look to Bruce.

"I’m sorry," Bruce began, looking all the bit for it, "where are my manners? You know me, obviously, Bruce Wayne. With me is the lovely Sensa McCain, and this is Sean Vilkmans, fellow entrepreneur."

"A pleasure to meet you, mon cherie," Vilkmans said, holding a palm out expectantly towards Lois.

While Vilkmans turned on his charm, Bruce grinned at Clark. “Wayne Enterprises is looking to expand. We’re  _always_  looking to expand.”

===

Clark tried very hard not to roll his eyes as Lois forced a smile and shook Vilkmans’ hand.  He was, after all, not a rude person… even though if any occasion had ever tempted him to be…

"Nice to meet you, Ms. McCain," Clark said with a nod and a polite smile.  "Mr. Vilkmans."  He shook Sensa’s hand and then reached for Vilkmans’.  He had yet to let go of Lois.  Clark glanced at her face in time to see annoyance cloud her face as she wrenched her hand from his grip.  The man grinned lasciviously and Clark took his now empty hand in a grip slightly stronger than he would normally use in a handshake.  He covered it with a docile grin.

"So," Clark continued, looking back to Bruce, "Looking to expand the company?  I suppose the fact that the whole country practically came to a halt for this celebration is just icing on the cake."

===

Sensa chuckled. “Oh, let’s not talk politics, I was actually just in the middle of—”

"Oh it’s fine," Bruce cut in. "Mr. Kent, for being a reporter, you should be able to get your facts straight. The country has hardly come to a grind. If anything, it’s being given a swift kick in the ass. Or it will be, after today."

"Excuse me, my dear boy, but I see Hiro over there," Vilksman said.

"Of course. Take care, Vilk." Bruce smiled, and Vilksman left.

_One down_.

===

"Of course, Mr. Wayne," Clark replied dryly.  "As you say."  

Lois cleared her throat and looked at Sensa.  ”You’re right,  _dear_.  I’m sure this talk of politics is terribly dull to  _you_.  But… that is a lovely dress.  You must tell me… who are you wearing?”  Sensa smiled and her eyes lit up… and Lois was being so obviously, transparently sarcastic and insincere that Clark had to laugh.

And it wasn’t polite “I’m at a party” laughter.  It was the kind of laugh you don’t feel coming until it’s erupted from within you, and shaken your whole body.  He clapped his hand over his mouth, realizing how silly he must look, but there was little use.

Lois raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a wicked smile as the people with them looked on.  ”Actually,” she said, “On second thought, I’d better have another glass of wine.”  She downed the rest of what was in her glass and elbowed Clark.  ”I think I want to catch up with you.”

Clark caught his breath as Lois sashayed away, leaving him in the very heart of the lion’s den.  ”I… um… I’m terribly sorry.  That was… rude, wasn’t it?”

===

Sensa smiled her smile and laughed her laugh. “Oh, it’s quite alright.” She shook her head. ”Bruce, darling, why don’t we let this fine couple do as they say and…dance, perhaps?”

"Hm?" Bruce raised his eyebrows. Clark’s laughter was still in his head. "Oh, but I was expecting Miss Lane to be rejoining us. And I must say, Mr. Kent, you nor your partner don’t come across as the society page type. Where do you normally work? I’ve actually got an interest in journalism."

Sensa quietly fumed beside him, but clung to his arm nonetheless.  _God_ , Bruce thought. Between her and journalism, he didn’t know how this night could get worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Clark cleared his throat again, for good measure, and looked helplessly at Lois, who merely smirked at him. He’d be getting himself out of this one.  
"I must admit, this," Clark began, gesturing around the room with one pointed finger, "Is rather… new to us. Well, to me for sure. And I’d like to hope that Lois will be rejoining us, but I suppose she’s going to stay away and teach me a lesson." He took a quick sip from his glass of wine before wrinkling his nose and hastily adding, "Not that… making conversation is a punishment." He shook his head and flashed a smile. "And to answer your question, we’re usually on-the-scene types. Right in the heart of the action… which is why we were surprised to be sent here.”

Was he babbling? Maybe a little. He told himself to play it cool and try and at least act as if he wasn’t raised in a barn.

===

Bruce felt genuine interest pique inside. “First time in the society! Well don’t I feel honored. Would you like the grand tour?” He gestured to the room. “I know possibly every person there is to know. Could introduce you to whoever you wanted, really.”

===

That was an intriguing prospect. He glanced at Lois and found that in the seventeen seconds he hadn’t been paying attention, she’d latched on to a Mr. Olaf Gunderson, a Swedish playboy whose father owned a large confectionery company, and was currently trying to give him her best velvet glove treatment — that way he wouldn’t see the iron first coming. They never did. She wouldn’t miss him for a few minutes…

Clark glanced back at Bruce, and it was silly. No was in his mind. He wasn’t there to make friends or soak up society. But somehow the words that tumbled from his lips, like crumbs from the crust of a pie, were, “Sure… that sounds wonderful.”

It was sillier than silly. And he couldn’t help flashing a smile, the one that showed the dimples in the corners of his mouth. And then he blushed, thinking about his own silly dimples.

What the heck was he doing?

===

Bruce followed Clark’s gaze. He did his best to smile when he looked back, but Sensa was still clutching at him and Clark was…Bruce worked half a ball of spit down his throat. He pushed the smile into a grin.

"Alright, pick your pup. We’ve got Fitz over there —" multiple moving violations, drug charges stalled in court "—Gerald Butler—" uses mercenaries for bodyguards, easy to get them to talk "—and Bruno Mannheim—" Metropolis crime lord, in so many words "—are some good ones to start with."

===

Well, this was the chance of a lifetime.

Clark cleared his throat. ”Hm… I do hear Bruno Manheim is… interesting…” He was careful to keep his voice even. It wasn’t easy. And that was entirely because of this opportunity that had fallen into his…

Well, best not to finish that thought…

===

"I’m sorry Bruce," Sensa said. She patted his arm. "I completely forgot the time. I need to find my sister, she’s expecting me. When you’ve finished playing tour guide, feel free to find me again."

Bruce winced purposefully. “Of course. Tell her I said hi?”

"Sure." She nodded once. "Ciao, Brucie, Mr. Kent!"

She left, and Bruce let out a silent breath. He glanced up and down Clark’s suit, casually pinched at a wrinkle. “Y’know, this might work for on-the-scene stuff, but society work requires. Well.” He tried to look sheepish. “Work. It’s not like you can just show up in anything.”

===

Clark smiled and tried to smooth his suit. ”I… well, fashion is hardly something I’ve ever been in touch with. I’m more of a jeans and bare feet kind of guy.” C’mon Clark… get the conversation back on track. ”There’s a good reason I’ve never been assigned to the style column.” He bit his bottom lip and shrugged.

"So, uh, should we…?" he nodded toward Bruno and gave Bruce a little smile. Surely someone who made his living as a writer should have a better command of words than that… but here he was. And maybe that wasn’t terrible… because judging by the look on Bruce’s face, he understood what that stammering meant.

===

"Fake it ‘till you make it." Part of him wanted to wilt at his own words. He himself was very well aware of the psychological effects that mentality had and how successful it could actually be — he studied that at the University of Minnesota for two semesters — but it was still something so…Brucie to say.

Bruce cleared his throat. He looked over at Bruno, surrounded by his usual posse, and sized the situation as best he could from a distance. “But here’s a tip free of charge: know when to enter a conversation, not just what to say. If you enter in the middle of a story, you’ll make a bad impression. So until then—” He ambled up to a group of older women and men “—the Becketts! I haven’t seen you guys in years!”

===

Being a part of society was a lot of work. He had been doing it for all of six minutes and that already seemed a tad long.

Clark smiled politely and shook hands with the people Bruce then introduced him to — Mr. Marshall Beckett, a short man with a vicious case of scoliosis and a toupee that wasn’t fooling anyone who had made his money in buying respectable news outlets and turning them into exploitative tabloids, and his sisters, twin spinsters Margaret and Cecily. Standing close by, but very conscious of not appearing to be a part of the group was Jocelyn Beckett, Marshall’s latest wife — a 22 year old leggy redhead that was often photographed stumbling out of clubs and bars.

You can do this, Clark told himself.

"So, my boy, you’re a reporter?" Mr. Beckett asked. "What outfit are you with?"

Clark smiled politely. ”The Daily Planet, sir.”

"Ahh, yes," Beckett replied. "Fine paper, that. You almost get the sales of my paper in Metropolis.”

He was able to stop himself from saying that the Bugle, Beckett’s rag, was nothing but TMZ or Perez Hilton for people that didn’t know how to use the internet. But just barely. ”We try, sir,” Clark responded weakly. A glance behind Beckett showed that trophy wife Jocelyn was busy ogling either him or Bruce, or both of them perhaps. Where was Lois when he needed her?

Actually, on second thought, you probably can’t do this, he thought. It was that lion’s den feeling all over again. He quickly cast a helpless glance at Bruce and hoped he noticed and took pity on him.

===

"Oh go easy easy on him, Marsh, it’s his first society event," Bruce said.

"Oh really?” Margaret leaned forward. “Is this why you’re dragging him around?”

"I must say, Bruce, even with your tendencies this is unusual,” Cecily added.

This was one of those moments that Bruce hated the personality he had to wear. He wanted nothing more than to glower at them and tell them how pathetic they all were, how half of them were the reason the world was a disaster and the other half were the first half’s pawns.

But he chuckled, briefly closing his eyes with the gesture. “Hardly. This guy, what he didn’t tell you is that he works with the one and only Miss Lois Lane, the Superman reporter.”

That got everyone’s attention. Marshall’s eyebrows migrated to the top of his forehead, even. There seemed to be an idea forming in the man’s mind, but Bruce didn’t dwell on it. He was focused on hiding his displeasure in another fake sip of wine as the Superman questions came pouring in.

===

Clark felt like he should be offended or affronted or something, because this whole crowd seemed to be implying something, and seemingly something unsavory. But he didn’t really have time to indulge that thought. What he did feel was uncomfortable, because these people were vultures (and that Jocelyn was still looking at him like he was a steak and she was starving)… and Bruce had plastered a grin on his face and hung him out to dry.

"Have you ever met Superman?"

"Does that Lois Lane really date him?"

'What's he like?”

"Can he really fly, or is that a trick?”

"Does he have an agent? Because I would really like to book him to appear at a function…"

"Do you know his shirt size? Such a broad chest…"

Clark did his best to deflect all the questions he could. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate people being interested, because he did. But it made him feel… like a spectacle. And that wasn’t whyhe was Superman. There was no way to be Superman and keep from having constant attention on him, but that didn’t mean he had to embrace it.

But just as he was preparing to find a retreat, Lois came up beside him and smiled. Looping her arm through Clark’s, she silenced the crowd by saying, “You know, you people are really asking the wrong person for Superman stories. He and Clark have hardly even passed each other on the street, let alone had a meaningful conversation.”

Clark smiled and nodded, more thankful than he had been all night. ”She’s right, you know. I’m afraid I’d be a terrible Superman reporter…” Then, looking to Bruce, who looked surprisingly bored for a man that had just played quite the joke on an easy mark, he said, “But thank you anyways for the introduction. You’ll never know how much I appreciated this.”

===

Bruce frowned at Clark’s expression. That was cruel, a part of him said. He suddenly felt a wave of empathy for the guy. This wasn’t very different than being bombarded by paparazzi, and if Bruce didn’t like that, then why would he ever assume someone else would?

But Brucie wouldn’t think like that, would he?

He glanced over at Bruno, then nodded politely when Lois rejoined the group. A plan of action quickly formed in his mind.

"Lois, perfect timing," Bruce said. Then, turning to the rest of the group, "Hate to chat and run, but I made this man a promise, and I will leave you in her very, very capable company." He gently grabbed Clark’s elbow and pulled a bit.

Lois raised her eyebrows and unwound herself. But before she could ask what was going on, Margaret immediately began in with, “Oh, yes, tell us about Superman! What’s he really like?”

===

"Well, they asked everything but how Superman is in bed," Clark said, rolling his eyes. Then, immediately regretting that remark, he glanced at Bruce and tried to sound casual as he continued, “And you… oh, man. You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

===

He could do it. He could not be Brucie, for five seconds. He could actually be…whatever he was. Whoever. Clark was new to the scene, new to Bruce. Clark had no idea who he was outside the media, and hell, the man worked in media, he had to know how exaggerated those stories could get. He had to be the one to exaggerate those stories, sometimes, much as the thought made Bruce uncomfortable.

"I’m sorry," Bruce said, a touch of somberness reaching his voice. "I had no idea they would get so…predatory. And just for the record—" He stopped and turned himself in towards Clark, dropping his voice one octave. "Actually, off the record: do not tell Bruno you’re a reporter. Trust me on that one.”

He didn’t have time to explain to Clark why — Brucie wouldn’t be able to explain anyways — because he turned around at the exact moment to squeeze himself into the end of Bruno’s favorite story to tell.

"And that is why the man’ll never leave Metropolis," Bruce said.

Bruno chuckled. “Yes, exactly. Gents, Bruce. Bruce, gents. Or have you met?”

Both of them laughed. Brucie was a favorite “pet” of Bruno’s, going back to when Bruce first returned Stateside. Bruno thought he was an easy man to manipulate; Bruce thought that Bruno’s passwords were easy to guess after only a few short meetings.

===

It was quickly becoming apparent that Bruce was an interesting man. Maybe there was more to him than it would appear? Clark had seen how he had to take a deep breath before approaching these people, as if he was stepping into a role.

He probably was, Clark realized.

He could give the man the benefit of the doubt, surely. He didn’t have to offer to make introductions for Clark, so if he was going to be friendly enough to go out of his way… But at any rate now, what he thought of Bruce wasn’t important. He had been a vehicle to why Clark had come here in the first place — Bruno Manheim. A vehicle with a voice that made the ground rumble slightly under Clark’s feet when he dropped it to that low and quiet place… a vehicle with surprisingly long and dark eyelashes that framed unearthly blue eyes just so.

Clark closed his eyes and shook his head once, just to clear those thoughts. He… didn’t have time.

The entourage surrounding Bruno all fought momentarily for Bruce’s attention, and whether they knew him or just knew of him, Clark couldn’t tell. Clark flashed an earnest smile and cleared his throat. He extended a hand to Bruno Manheim and concentrated very hard on not recoiling from his touch as he took it. ”Mr. Manheim, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, trying to mimic that carefree tone Bruce had employed. Remembering what Bruce said about not mentioning being a reporter, he said, “I’m… a fellow Metropolian. Metropolitan? Metropolite?” Waving his hand and smiling again, he added, “Whatever you call me… I live in Metropolis, too.” There. Surely that sounded properly airheaded. Bruno would have no reason to be on his guard now.

===

Bruce would have groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Clark was not good at acting.

"We go back," Bruce said. "His name’s Phillip, just showing him the ropes. Hey Bruno, how’s the Ace of Clubs coming along? Figure that zoning thing problem you had?"

"Ages ago, we’re almost done with construction," Bruno said around a laugh. "Bob’s here to work out some how to get Kasnia’s booze imported. Their wine is shit, but the beer is better than Germany!"

===

Zoning issues. Importing alcohol. None of that was quite what he was looking for.

He watched with interest as they easily volleyed the conversation back and forth. He noticed that no one in the whole room acted as if they cared about anything. Even their own jobs and money… it was all unimportant. And it was easy to them.

And they all laughed too loudly. That he could certainly manage.

"So when should we expect your club to be open, Mr. Manheim?" he asked. Maybe he should have called him Bruno… these people didn’t seem to care much about manners or propriety. "I’d… like to go. Some time." He shrugged. "If I… have the time." He almost threw in a whatever, but that would probably be a step too far.

===

The words were on Bruno’s lips, but he didn’t get to say them. One of his buddies got a text, then he leaned in and whispered in Bruno’s ears. Bruno nodded; the buddy left.

"Ahem, sorry about that. Where were we?"

Bruce smiled and went back to their positively thrilling conversation now moving into the best brewing methods. Another man, Mr. Tayaka, came by briefly, but then was on his way.

Glancing sideways, Bruce checked on Clark. He looked like he wasn’t even pretending to be bored, but he was hanging in there. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much Bruce could do about that, even if he wanted to.

He looked down at his watch. For a brief second, the thought flashed in his mind — other people to introduce him to, showing him who’s who — but it was quickly overcome by something much more prudent.

"Alright gentlemen, this is where I make my departure. Bruno, nice meeting you again. Phill, don’t let them eat you alive. And Chavez, that is not beer, that is piss ‘n’ water." A round of chuckles passed through the group. Bruce bowed slightly. "Ciao, gents."

===

Clark was surprised Bruce was leaving. Just a vehicle, he told himself. He got you what you wanted. But still… it was… disappointing.

Clark gave him half a smile and a nod as he said, “Bye.” Then, he mouthed, “Thanks,” just before Bruce’s back turned.

He looked at his shoe for a moment, realizing that he didn’t exactly know how to get this conversation to go in the direction he wanted it to. This talk of nightclubs and domestic versus imported beer and brewing might interest Phillip, but he didn’t have much practice in being Phillip yet. That was why he should have been disappointed, not… well, whatever.

"So, Bruno, you have… any other interests here in Kasnia?" he asked with a smile.

Bruno gave him an appraising look and shook his head. ”I have interests everywhere.” Then, with a phony laugh, he said, “Well, now, it’s been lovely talking to you, my boy, but I’m afraid I must retire for the evening. Perhaps I will see you in Metropolis.” And with that he made his unceremonious exit, followed by his so-called gentlemen.

He turned around and saw Lois making her way across the room, eyes narrowed. ”You left me with those jackals while you interrogated Bruno Manheim! I’ll never forgive you for that, Smallville.”

"It was hardly an interrogation, Lois," he sighed. "I didn’t get much useful information out of him. And besides… you seemed to be enjoying yourself with your admirers. So, what does it feel like to be the girl who dates Superman?”

She rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. ”Some days are better than others.”

Clark shook his head. ”Listen, I can’t take much more of this. What do you say we make a hasty retreat?”

"What’s the matter?" she asked playfully. "Party no fun without your new friend Bruce to tote you around to every important person in the room?"

Clark blushed. ”Shut. Up.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce caught the “thanks.” Brucie did not.

It was a long ride back to his hotel room. He took the opportunity to brush up on Clark’s writing career, quickly skimming through the titles. A few of them jumped out at him, but one in particular, the very first interview with Superman, caught his attention.

Bruce had read it already. He had read everything related to Superman, actually, even a few articles that he suspected were from before his public debut.

But this time was different. This time, Bruce paid attention to style, grammar, and syntax. You could tell a lot about a person with things like that.

"Your destination, sir," the driver said as he held the door.

Bruce looked up from his phone and smiled. “Thanks.” He stepped out and hastily made his way inside.

===

"Honestly, what did you talk about?" Lois wheedled.  "You looked like you were really fitting in with the crowd of Bruce’s."

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel.  ”I was  _not_  fitting in.  I was trying desperately not to stick out like a sore thumb… but a lot of good it did me.”  They piled out of the cab and Clark walked Lois up to her room.  She stood beside her door and waited for him to go into his adjoining room.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.  "I wasn’t planning on inviting you in."

"I’m waiting for you to go in your room, so I can…" he paused.  "I’d like to take a walk."

Lois rolled her eyes.  She didn’t believe him.  ”Goodnight, Clark.”

He had a feeling he’d be dealing with her again before the night was up.  He went outside and ducked into a nice dark alley and quickly shed his suit, as this seemed a bit less conspicuous than sailing out of his hotel window in uniform.  

He took back off for the party, expecting to find Bruno and associates still within the building. 

===

It was difficult, to say the least, to navigate Kasnia’s streets as Batman. The country was almost perpetually at war with anything and everything, including itself most of the time. Their buildings were either entirely new, or entirely old. Gotham was nicer than this. Gotham had architecture, a sense of design. 

And it had a helluva lot more ledges and gargoyles.

Bruce skirted across the long rooftop, glancing down at his target below. There wasn’t much in terms of guards at the facility. He easily found his way inside.

Cameras turned away as he walked past. A trio of scientists working well past their usual hours crammed themselves around a microscope, barely noticing the shadow that passed over the door. Further and further in he went, until finally, at last…

Bruce disabled the door’s security and slid inside, carefully shutting it behind him. Off to the side, slightly suspended, was a very large, very  _alien_  ship.

 _So_ , he thought, pausing to stare,  _that’s how they made those weapons_. Bruce moved over to a console and began generous amounts of research.

===

He was just beginning to acknowledge to himself that following Manheim now might be a waste of time.  He wouldn’t be able to bring him down.  Clark Kent had no legitimate reason to be snooping around him right now, and Superman didn’t have any evidence that could make any charges actually stick.

Maybe he’d get what he needed tonight.

He flew over one of the new buildings building him, one that was trying to hard to look nondescript.  And as he looked down he saw the tail end of something long and black and dramatic sweeping inside the building.

What?

He looked closer… inside the building.  And he saw a confirmation of the itching suspicion that cropped up the moment he saw the blackness.  It was the Batman.  What could he be doing in Kasnia?  Was he… could he be after Manheim, too?  What did Bruno Manheim have to do with him?  Wasn’t his beat Gotham City?  

This certainly wasn’t Gotham.

He drifted lower and landed on the rooftop.  Inside the building were various scientists, security personnel, random employees, Batman… and a strange ship.  He found a window and let himself inside the building and quickly made his way down a long hall, feet not touching the floor.

When he arrived at the room he was looking for, he only had to open the door and go in.  It had been left unlocked.

"You know, Batman," he began, standing tall and confident, hands on his hips, "I imagined we would meet eventually, but I didn’t figure it’d be any place like this." 

===

 _Shit_. Bruce snapped his head towards Superman. He scowled. “Superman.”  _And what were you expecting, spaghetti and_ _accordions_? 

===

Clark sighed and shook his head with a smug expression.  ”Dazzling conversationalist.  The rumors are true.”  Taking one step closer, but just one, because he had no intentions to antagonize this man, this wildcard, he asked, “So, what exactly are you doing here?”

===

Oh, Bruce had exactly no time for this, and Batman had even less. Eventually, the guards — if they were any good — would notice loops and odd movements with the cameras. And it was  _great_ , just  _great_  that Superman was here. He had only heard, had only read about the rumors. But as he squared his shoulders and let the cape cover his hands, he really hoped a sliver would be enough.

"I could ask you the same thing. Metropolis not big enough?"

===

Clark raised an eyebrow at the stance Batman had assumed.  He obviously meant to intimidate him.  It wouldn’t be so easy.  ”I go where I’m needed,” he said.  ”And I was in the neighborhood.”

He took another step closer and looked from Batman to the large craft within the room.  ”That’s a dilly, isn’t it?  Is this why you’re here?  This ship is involved in street level crime?”

===

'In the neighborhood.'  _Cute_. Bruce stiffened as Superman stepped closer, laid a finger and thumb on the capsule. He debated how close he was going to let the alien get — right after he got over the fact that Superman not, in fact, attempting to straight-out haul him off to jail.

"Yes, in fact," Batman began. "It’s being reverse-engineered into new energy-based weapons." He double-clicked; the weapon schematics popped up. "These things have been turning up in Gotham. Let me guess — you’re here for the ship, too?"

===

Alien tech on the streets of Gotham?  ”Are you going to keep pouting if I say yes?” he asked.  He looked the ship over, scanned it.  It wasn’t Kryptonian, that was for sure, but he didn’t know what it  _was_.  But nothing about this sat right.  He’d like to ask how Batman knew to look here for this ship, but he knew he’d not get a response… at least not one that would help him any.

Instead, as he began to run through the usual suspects in his mind, he wondered aloud, “Who could be behind this?” 

===

For the first time in his life, Bruce felt the filter between thought and action wear thin. At least he managed to strangle the “I do not pout” in his throat and turn it into a growl.

He turned back to the computer and navigated to more personal files. Entries from scientists, video diaries and documentaries, the kind of thing he’d have to copy over and dissect for a week or more to find what he needed, if it existed in there at all. But if these guys were making it, there was a chance they knew who they were selling it to. But just to be certain, he’d stop by offices higher up the corporate food chain and get their files, too.

Bruce absently started playing one. “Ugly’s got it all figured out,” the scientist — Yvanna, Bruce recalled, from his earlier digging — said. “Can’t wait to see the results. They won’t let us test on living flesh here, said the pigs’d be too expensive…”

===

Clark slammed his fist into his hand.  ”Manheim!” he ground out, voice low and hot.  ”Why am I not surprised?  This has got Intergang stink all over it.”

===

"Mannheim?" Bruce looked at the screen. "What makes you say—"

Alarms started going off in the building. Fire alarms, Bruce realized. He yanked out his thumb drive and sent the terminal to sleep.

===

"Intergang," he continued over the sound of the alarms.  "He runs Intergang… can’t prove it, though."  He moved toward the door.  "And those alarms… there isn’t a fire.  We’re about to have company."

===

Bruce glanced from the door to Superman, then to the window behind him. “Get out of here,” he said quickly. “Break the window if you have to. Just  _leave_.”

He could hear the boots stomping just outside the door now. Bruce quickly checked a device on his wrist, just to make sure the cameras hadn’t been fixed. They hadn’t.  _Good_ , he thought. 

He looked over at Superman again. “ _Go_!”

===

"Are you nuts?" Clark asked in annoyance.  Then, "Never mind.  Obvious question… don’t answer that.  I’m not just going to walk out of here like I have some reason to be ashamed and leave you to probably be killed."

The door crashed open to reveal a half-dozen armed men.  Clark wasn’t sure how well protected the Batman was in that suit, but he couldn’t chance him taking a bullet.  He positioned himself directly in front of him.

===

Bruce was  _pissed_. He let the guys open fire on Superman, watched the bullets bounce off like popcorn, but he was quick to vault around the alien.

He was  _not_  some princess that needed protecting.

Flinging smoke grenades, Batman flung himself into the very thick of combat. His cape snapped and fluttered as he rolled, punched, and all but pinballed himself between three of the six men. Guns went flying when batrangs clanged up against them. One of them screamed “Demon!” in Kasnian, then hi-tailed it out of there.

That was more like it.

===

Clark sighed.   _Show off_.

Clark approached two of the men that had shrunk away from Batman but still had their guns pointed at the two of them and crushed the guns in their hands.  One of the men backed himself up to the wall and the other fainted.

Clark looked to the last gunman and said, “You know, I hate when that happens.  Hurts my feelings… makes me feel like you aren’t happy to see me.”  The gunman swore under his breath and raised his gun and pointed it at Clark.  ”Now, does that  _really_  seem like the best course of action here?”  The man dropped his gun and scampered away.

Then he turned to Batman and gave him a smile, just because.

===

Bruce glared at Superman, mostly at Superman’s stupid smile. “ _Leave_ ,” he bit out again, even though he had come to terms with the fact that Superman would, in all likelihood,  _not_  be leaving.

He moved into the hallway and ran in the opposite direction of the next wave. There was a maintenance passage he could slip into, he remembered seeing it on the blueprints. It wouldn’t get him out of the building, but he could maybe lose the guards, shake them just enough to get to his real exit with enough time to pick the lock.

===

Clark rolled his eyes.  Who exactly did this guy think he was, and who did he think he was kidding?  

They had to get out of the building, sooner rather than later.

He went after Batman and grabbed his arm.  Before he could protest, which Clark could  _feel_  that he was about to, he took his earlier advice and busted the nearest window, jumping out of it and pulling Batman after him.

"You said to leave, so we left."

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Put me  _down_!” Bruce roared, once he felt the last of the glass fall away from his face. He quickly clung to Clark like a lifeline, just in case he got any funny ideas. Panic swelled at the thought. He hadn’t brought his glider cape, couldn’t pick out a ledge with more than a 51% stability rating. “ _Now_!”

===

"Now, which is it?" Clark asked.  "I can put you down  _now_ , or you can keep hanging on to me, but both just won’t work… so which is it?”

===

He wanted to strangle Superman. He really, really wanted to strangle Superman. How had he ever thought he needed to protect this guy’s image?

"There. That rooftop, right there. Put me  _down_.”

===

"Your wish is my command," he replied.  He flew to the nearby building and touched down lightly on the rooftop, still holding Batman’s waist.  He loosened his grip to give the man the satisfaction of breaking away from his hold.

Clark shrugged.  ”We had to get out of there.  You’d have been caught.”

===

"Me?" Bruce whirled on Clark. "I could have handled that! What the  _hell_  are you even doing here?!”

===

"I am here," Clark began indignantly, "Because I. Go. Where. I’m. Needed.  And I needed information on Intergang and Ugly Manheim, and this was where I  _needed_  to be to get that.”

He put his hands back on his hips, assuming his confident pose despite his annoyance.  And then, just because, he floated about a foot off the ground.  ”And if you had been caught, you’d be getting your skull bashed in by the police right about now.”

===

Oh, and didn’t Bruce know it.

"I wouldn’t have been caught. I had three available escapes and three other alternatives." He thought about something. "In fact, if you hadn’t shown up, none of the alarms would have gone off at all! Not to mention I would have gotten a lot more intel on that alien ship in there. A lot more."

Bruce grabbed at his cape to keep it from billowing off his shoulders as he turned into the wind, away from Superman. Pieces started falling together: the whisper at the party, an empty storage room. He started off for his destination.

===

Batman was determined to make everything Clark’s fault.  

"Oh,  _I_  set off the alarms,” he ranted.  ”I suppose  _I_  was the one tampering with the computers and the security systems —” And he might have continued that rant, but there was little purpose.  

Batman was gone.

Clark sighed.  Well, he had work to do anyways.  No time to stand around shouting at that brick wall of a man.  

He took to the sky again, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t rather enjoy the look Batman threw him as he sailed over him.

===

The pieces fell into place rather nicely: the whispered conversation, the diary entry, Bruno still at the party, and last but not least, a ship often associated but never pinned as Intergang-controlled was currently docked at Kasnia’s port. It made sense to smuggle goods by ship. By air, there were too many regulations to contest with. By sea, there were many more opportunities to circumvent authority. 

Bruce was  _not_  going to let those weapons end up anywhere stateside, even if part of him wanted to see Superman get hit once or twice. For scientific purposes, of course. _  
_

He reeled in his grapple and crouched atop a stack of barge crates. There was a crab ship unloading two docks down, making the smell of salt and sea punctuated by a tangy scent both unpleasant and unremarkable. And below him were quite possibly Intergang men loading their unmarked cargo. He focused his binoculars to see if he could confirm.

===

He wasn’t following Batman, though that was probably what he would think.  But it didn’t matter at this point.

He hovered over a ship that was being unloaded and x-rayed it.  It was exactly how it looked.  But the ship he noticed the Batman near was exactly what Clark would have expected.  Intergang men milling about and a cache of weapons in crates that were meant to look unimportant.

Now the question was how to handle this without having to deal with  _him_  any more than was necessary.

===

To be fair, he only caught the sight of Superman on a whim, just a quick triple-scan of his surroundings and there he was, flying about. He probably followed Bruce. He probably had no idea how to figure any of this out on his own. But even if Bruce thought Superman was capable of deductive reasoning and not just reactive action, he made a mental note to start checking the skies more often.

And then, he waited.

===

If he went down there now, he could nab the guys transferring the weapons, but that wouldn’t solve the problem.  There’d be no way to pin it on Manheim, and even if there was enough evidence to implicate him, nothing would stick.  He was almost as slippery as Luthor.  The video of that scientist… Batman had it, and who knew what he’d do with the evidence.  Clark didn’t really have any way of knowing that he was really anywhere near being on the same side… and being on opposite sides might explain some of that hostility.

Because he did seem an exceptionally hostile character.

===

"Da! Jorlakiin, jorlakiin!" one of the men shouted. He pointed at Superman, and they began to open fire on the sky.

Batman slunk off the crate and back into the shadows. He had been hoping Superman would’ve done something before the alarm was raised, but at least now they had their eyes up instead of around.

===

Well.  This seemed a bit ill advised, shooting into the night sky at a guy who was flying.  

And the guns may have been alien in origin, so they shot pretty rapidly and impressively far, but they still shot regular bullets… and they bounced off of him and fell into the salty water below.

That couldn’t continue.

He swooped down in front of the men who were shooting at him and he took the guns out of the hands of the two nearest him.  ”C’mon guys,” he said, “Surely we can work things out a little more quietly.”

But the metal… the metal of the guns… he couldn’t bend it.  And the smoking barrel of one had actually burnt his hand.  He’d have to take a different approach here.  He kicked the gun out of the hands of one of the men and it flew into the ocean.  One of the men looked desperate to make a distraction and started blindly firing onto the docks.

===

A batarang thrust at just the right angle and with just the right force took care of the gun firing aimlessly at the crabbing boat. “Go see if there are any injuries!” Batman barked, hurtling past Superman.

He was like a wrecking machine. He bounced a guy’s head off his knee, whipped around in time to catch the arm of another, and he cracked the knife out of a fist with a sickening  _crunch_ at the elbow. His cape fluttered and flourished, distorting his figure and causing miss after miss when they tried firing on him.

At this rate he’d have the place cleared in a minute, minute-ten tops.

===

He’d been momentarily shaken by the fact that the metal was so strong, and he berated himself for it.  That couldn’t happen again… especially not in front of Batman.

He flew over to the dock and found a large, shaggy white dog guarding a man who had taken a bullet in his lower back.  As he approached the injured man, the dog bared his teeth and growled.

"Calm down, pal, it’s okay," Clark said soothingly.  "I’m not going to hurt him."  He extended his hand to the dog palm up and the dog sniffed him and quieted down.  He knelt by the man and saw that there was an entry wound but no exit wound, and he was bleeding pretty heavily.

He pressed his hand onto the man’s wound.  ”This isn’t so bad.  You’ll be okay.”  He didn’t think the man understood him because he was barely conscious and he probably didn’t speak English, but he had to say something.  He even looked at the dog and added, “I’m sure it isn’t as bad as it looks.”  Now he just wished he believed that.

===

“ _Fur klast Jorlakiin und Vulvenah_!” the man screamed.

Batman punched him in the face. “We are  _not_  working together,” he said. He watched the body tumble to the ground.

With the last of the men unconscious, disarmed, and zip tied to a pole, Batman raised his head and looked around. Superman was not in the sky, which meant he had either gotten distracted by something else — or he was tending to an injured person on the crab boat.

He took off for the crab boat. The moment he saw Superman crouched over a man pooling blood, he put his hand to an ear and went straight into the Kasnian police radio. “Das fae alklii tunof  _Maya’s Fate_ ,” he said, kneeling down and pushing into his belt. “Und das fae mahurno lakran alklii vaas tobonokilostan, za—” he glanced up, looked past Superman and squinted “— _Friiglam Ol_.” He disconnected the line. _  
_

"Move," he said to Superman. Tweezers and gauze seemingly appeared in his gloved hands. "Ambulance is five minutes off. The bullet needs to come out _now_.”

===

He looked skeptically at Batman.  ”Do you really know what you’re doing?  Because if not, you could make matters worse…” But nevertheless, he moved aside, hoping rather than trusting that Batman  _did_  know what he was doing.  He wiped his bloody hands on his cape and urged the dog away from Batman and the injured man.

===

Yeah, he knew he could make matters worse. He was very well aware of that fact that 99% of the time the bullet shouldn’t even be touched, and could stay inside the body for the rest of the victim’s life. But these were weapons he had encountered before. These were weapons that brought three faces to front of his mind, three people who had died from the bullet being left  _in_.

Batman placed the tweezers just above the entry wound. He mentally flipped through every article he had ever read about Superman. “How well can you control your heat vision?”

===

He furrowed his brows.  He had managed to learn to control his heat vision pretty well, but it wasn’t perfect.  But maybe… maybe it was the safest thing to try right now…

"I think I can control it well enough," he said.  "What do you want me to do?"

===

"You’re going to need to cauterize the spot I pull it out from." Bruce thought about the medical gel he had packed, just in case Superman couldn’t do it. The gel wouldn’t be as good as a straight cauterization.

"And hold him still. This is going to hurt." He started digging.

===

Clark nodded and held the man down and winced as the man screamed in pain.  ”Hold on, just hold still,” he tried to soothe.  ”You’re going to be okay.” 

===

He felt the tweezers bump against the bullet. With a quick movement, Bruce pinched it between the tongs and began to pull. Blood almost immediately began to pour from the wound far faster than it had been before.

“ _Now_ ,” he barked, dropping the bloody metal aside with a faint  _tink_.

===

He concentrated very hard on keeping the blast of heat in just the spot he needed it, and making sure it was hot enough to cauterize but not so hot as to cause any further damage.  If the man had screamed before, the sound that came out of him when the heat came into contact with his skin was an almost inhuman wail.  But it didn’t take long, and he didn’t see anymore blood.  He had done it.

He looked to Batman, unsure of what to say.  So when in doubt, he felt it best to fall back on his manners.  ”Thank you,” he said earnestly.  ”I couldn’t have done that without you.”

===

Batman growled. He plugged what remained of the wound with gauze to soak up whatever blood was left, then he picked up the bullet and dropped it in a baggie.

"Leave me out of the police report," he said, rising to his feet. Sirens were echoing across the harbor.

He left.

===

 _I should have expected that_ , he thought.

The man who had been shot would survive.  He was on his way to the hospital and Clark had talked to the paramedics and the police using the very rudimentary Kasnian he had managed to pick up.  One of the cops spoke some very basic, broken English, so they communicated okay.  He had left Batman out of his statement to the police, not out of gratitude and not because he had  _told_  him to, but because it seemed like the right thing to do.  They might not exactly be on the same side, but maybe they weren’t on opposite sides either.

But he was cocky and rude and ungrateful.  And bossy.  And a huge know-it-all.  Not to mention the fact that he seemed to relish being unnecessarily violent.

Even though he had been lucky Batman was there to dig the bullet out of that poor man, he didn’t feel like he could trust him.

No, they weren’t enemies.  But they also weren’t friends.

===

Bruce wasn’t sure if he should have gone back to his suite at all. He more or less aimlessly wandered the downtown rooftops of Kasnia’s capital city, always watching the sky, always scanning his surroundings. Eventually he allowed himself to think that even if Superman were following him, there wasn’t much he could do apart from the tiny — probably too tiny — sliver of kryptonite in his belt.

He returned to his suite.

The curtains were already drawn, the cameras had already been compromised. Taking his gloves off, Bruce sighed through his nose and considered what had happened tonight. Kasnia had an alien ship no one knew about, Bruno Mannheim was importing weapons more advanced than anything the world had seen before. And Superman…

Bruce frowned.  _Superman_. He was…not what Bruce had been expecting. For one, either the rumors of his x-ray vision weren’t true, or he had kept his mouth shut when he peeked under the cowl. Bruce supposed there was  small possibility that Superman hadn’t peeked at all, but if he had Superman’s powers he wouldn’t have even hesitated to look.

He stripped the rest of his armor and locked it all away. Then, stepping into the shower, Bruce hoped he never had to work with the alien again.


End file.
